


Bilbo's Gift

by Puzzle_Pieces



Category: The Hobbit, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Bilbo Baggins, Poor Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puzzle_Pieces/pseuds/Puzzle_Pieces
Summary: Bilbo goes on the journey across Middle Earth with the Company, as normal. Expect, he has a secret. One that he does not want to accept, but may be forced to over the course of his adventure. Bilbo has always felt uncomfortable with his ability, but just maybe, he can use it for good. At the same time, this little secret may bring Bilbo and Thorin closer, or tear them apart.





	1. An Adventure? No Thanks.

A breeze wafted gently through the grass and a ring of smoke puffed through the air, steady making its way into the daylight, before it vanished. The sun was high in the sky, overlooking the rolling hills and gurgling streams of the Shire. Bilbo smiled, at peace with the world, safely protected on his hobbit sized bench, surrounded by the comforts of home. 

Taking another puff of his pipe, he leaned back further, curled his toes into the earth beneath him and breathed out. Another ring-shaped puff of smoke floated away, taken by the air until nothing left remained. Bilbo closely his eyes and marveled at the wonders to behold of Middle Earth. 

Only to open them not a second later, as the sound of footsteps on the path drifted to his ears. Putting off the inevitable for a moment, Bilbo gazed forward, unwilling to break the tranquil mask of peace that he had achieved. Yet, as all good things must come to an end, a being soon broke into his line of site, henceforth destroying the calm of the morning air. As Bilbo gazed upon the figure before him, he became slightly baffled at the site. In front of Bilbo stood a tall creature, resembling one of the Big Folk from Bree, except for his long grey robe and pointy hat, accompanied by a bushy grey beard. The being stared at Bilbo from underneath the ridiculous hat and bushy eyebrows to match his beard and yet did not speak a word. Bilbo felt as though he recognized the figure, but he just could not put his finger on it. In either case, he was certainly becoming quite uncomfortable!

Puffing out another ring of smoke and putting on, what he hoped to be a confident appearance, Bilbo straightened up and commented to the man, “Good morning.”

He nodded to himself and wished, without luck, that the man would reply in kind and leave him alone. This did not seem to be the case.

“What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning or do mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?” the stranger asked Bilbo, succeeding in confounding him greatly. As the man continued to be purposely difficult, creating more meanings for the two simple words, Bilbo became more and more befuddled, wishing he could just understand the meaning of all of it. What did it matter to him what Bilbo had meant?

Having the stranger’s gaze on him with intent, Bilbo was pressed for an answer and simply replied that all of the good mornings would suffice. After all, who was this man and what was he doing at Bilbo’s smial? That is a question Bilbo should like to ask. Yet the stranger continued to stare!

“Can I help you?” Bilbo finally inquired, feeling quite validated. 

“I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure,” said the man. Suddenly, Bilbo was quite nervous. His palms sweaty and his knee beginning to bobble up and down, Bilbo felt as though his heart would beat out of his chest at any given moment. This man must leave at once! Why should he come here, searching for hobbits to take on adventures, let alone Bilbo? It was madness!

No, no. He mustn't let his fear show. All would be fine. He just had to make the man leave, show him that hobbits are no good in adventures or any type of situation resembling such, especially Bilbo Baggins. No, he would not be good in any adventure whatsoever! Attempting to keep a calm exterior, Bilbo reasoned with the stranger.

“Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner,” he chuckled uneasily. Bilbo just wanted to be left alone. 

He made a show of looking over his mail and avoiding the man’s eyes. Eventually, when he deemed it a respectable amount of time (a hobbit must always be respectable after all), he cleared his throat he stuttered out another hasty good morning, turning away. 

Just as he began to walk up the stairs, relieved at his escape, Bilbo froze at the man’s next words. 

“To think that I should have lived to be ‘Good Morning’-ed by Belladonna Took’s son! As if I was selling buttons at the door.”

Belladonna Took. No. No. This man, how could he know Bilbo’s mother? That’s not possible at all. Turning around slowly, Bilbo asked nonchalantly if he knew this man, startled when he referred to Bilbo by name. 

“Well you know my name, although you don’t remember I belong to it. I’m Gandalf! And Gandalf means… me.”

And now Bilbo truly was worried. Although he really didn’t remember much about the wizard, he did know that Gandalf was just that, a well-known wizard. A powerful and meddlesome wizard who had been good friends with Bilbo’s mother. Bilbo remembered a vague memory of Gandalf’s presence in his childhood, during his very early years. If he was lucky, Gandalf would have no knowledge of Bilbo’s… condition. If not. Well, Bilbo sincerely hoped his mother had kept that tidbit in the dark. The last thing Bilbo needed was for the wizard to know about Bilbo; yet his insistence on dragging Bilbo to go on adventures highly suggested Gandalf knew. 

Feeling his calm attitude being tested once again, Bilbo deflected the conversation to Gandalf’s excellent fireworks. He cleared his throat once again and tried to indicate the end of a conversation. Gandalf observed him meaningful and seemed to come to a decision. 

“Well that’s decided. It will be very good for you. And most amusing for me,” Gandalf muttered the last part, as if Bilbo couldn’t hear! “I shall inform the others.”

Wanting no more of this foolish business, Bilbo turned once again, briskly stepping up to his round hobbit door. “No, no, wait! We do not want any adventures here! Thank you, not today!” He signaled the wizard to leave with his pipe, uncaring if he was being rude anymore. Feeling very nervous and quite uncomfortable, he said a last ‘good morning’ to the wizard and stepped inside, locking the door for good measure. 

Bilbo slumped against the door for just a moment, before quickly standing up at the sound of scraping against it. His newly paint door! He dropped his mail indifferently on the side table and slowly opened the curtain to the window beside the door, glancing out. The sight was clear for a second or two. 

Bilbo jumped backwards, nearly tripping over his own two feet at the sudden appearance of the wizard’s eye in the window. He hastily hid behind the wall of his home, unnecessarily, seeing as the wizard had caught him looking. Hurrying to the next window, Bilbo risked another glance outside, to see Gandalf’s retreating back. He breathed a sigh of relief.

That meddling wizard! Why he just felt the need to come the Shire, Bilbo’s home, and disturb the peace was absurd! Why not stick to those fool-hardy men of Bree or any other creature but a hobbit! And Bilbo, of all hobbits!. He would see why Gandalf would have the misconception that Bilbo could be useful, but besides the fact that Bilbo was not of any use to anyone, there was no conceivable way for Gandalf to know! Or, at least, that had been what Bilbo thought before. Very few people knew by now and they had only found out by accident. Bilbo’s parents would never have voluntarily given out that information.

Unless… perhaps Bilbo’s mother had thought, given Gandalf’s magic, that he could somehow cure Bilbo. Would it be possible? Gandalf did possess a very strong magic, but Bilbo did not truly believe it could be used in such a way. 

Bilbo remembered vividly the day he realized he wasn’t normal. All throughout his life, Bilbo’s parents had been a happy couple. They shared many of the same hobbies and likes, and yet they were the most opposite pair of hobbits one could ever meet. Belladonna was an adventurous spirit, wild and free and desiring the most out of life. Bungo was much the same, only he preferred to enjoy life at home, reading quietly in the comfort of his hobbit hole. 

Bilbo was much like his mother in his younger years. He was constantly running to and fro in the Shire, avoiding capture from imaginary Elves and Dwarves in the woods. He would come back to the house dirty and disheveled, quite unrespectable for a hobbit, might he add. While his behavior was frowned upon by many neighboring hobbits, his parents never found any cause for concern. He acted like a normal child, who was well within his rights to run around and play with the other hobbit children. And then everything seemed to change.

_“He’s not normal, Belladonna! That thing he does! It gives me the creeps. All of the children have begun to avoid him. He makes them uncomfortable. Yes, your perfect little Bilbo! He’s up to something. It’s not right!”_

_“I don’t understand your meaning. Bilbo is a perfectly normal child. Children can be rambunctious, have strong imaginations, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary,” claimed Belladonna. To anyone else she may have sounded reasonable, but Bilbo knew his mother’s angry voice. She was holding back but secretly raging inside. He hoped his mother wasn’t angry at him! He didn’t think he did anything wrong lately. He may have accidentally knocked over that lady’s antique pot, but it was hardly his fault! It shouldn’t have been laying around like that. And besides, that wouldn’t explain the other voice._

_Bilbo peaked around the corner of their living room to see a hobbit woman glaring at his mother, while his mother gazed back calmly, with a tense posture._

_“Don’t lie to me! I know you’ve felt it too. You must have, living with him. It’s like he gets into your mind. One minute, you will be feeling calm, the next moment your emotions are gone crazy. He makes the children go wild. Even the quiet ones. And sometimes they will come to me and say they were out playing all day, searching for Elves and Dwarves with Bilbo, only to come back home and feel as though they weren’t in control of their actions. Tell me that’s normal, Belladonna!”_

_Bilbo’s mother was silent. He was worried now. Bilbo didn’t understand all of what the lady had spoken but one thing was sure - she was talking about him and his mother wasn’t in disagreement. Bilbo didn’t want to stay to hear the rest but she began talking again and he couldn’t help but listen._

_“I’m just trying to help you Belladonna. It’s not safe for him to be here anymore. I know you love him, but imagine what he will grow up into. There are better places for him. And honestly, do you truly want to house a freak like that?”_

_At those words, Bilbo felt his heart break. He was a freak. His friends had begun to exclude him and apparently this was why. His parents treated him differently, as did all other adult hobbits. He just wasn’t normal._

_“Get out,” said Belladonna._

_“Excuse me,” the lady was shocked, Bilbo saw as he glanced around the corner._

_“You heard me. I said get out of my home. Never come back. If I hear one more mention of my son out of your mouth, you will not like the consequences. Now leave. Out of my house! Now!” Belladonna exclaimed. The lady scrambled away and out the door._

_Belladonna stood in places for a few moments and Bilbo assumed it would be a perfect time to slip away._

_“Bilbo. Come here.”_

_He stood frozen in fear. He didn’t want to reveal all that he had heard, but his mother had most likely known he was eavesdropping the entire time. Eventually, he sagged in defeat, turning around to join his mother in the sitting room._

_“Sit,” she asked_

_He sat. His leg bobbled up and down in nervous fear and he had to refrain from biting his lips._

_“Bilbo, darling. You ever hear anyone saying these things every again, about you or anyone else, you come tell me. Everyone is born different. No one has the right to judge anyone else for their differences. I want you to understand, sweetie. That lady, she was just scared. You’re special Bilbo. So, so special. And some people will be jealous of you for it, but that doesn’t make your talents a bad thing. There are always going to be jealous, mean people in the world, and it’s our job to protect them and never let them get to you. Alright sweetie?” Belladonna gazed at Bilbo lovingly. She reached down to swipe a bit of hair from his ear and his nervousness calmed._

_“You are different. You are not a normal hobbit, Bilbo, but in no way does that make you a freak.”_

_Bilbo wasn’t sure about that being true. He very much felt like a freak, becoming isolated from other hobbits for something he didn’t understand. He did trust his mother though. She was easily the bravest, most intelligent woman he knew. She would have the answers._

_“Mother? Why am I different? Why don’t the other kids play with me anymore?” he asked._

_Belladonna smiled down at him._

Bilbo understood now. He wished he didn’t but he did. His mother had always assumed he was special and he was not cursed, but gifted. As he grew up and lost her and his father, he learned different. Despite their attempts to teach him how to control his mind, he struggled as a child, having such a strong will and imagination. Other child began to dislike him and claim he manipulated them and so he became a recluse, only ever leaving the house when forced by his parents to accompany them shopping or elsewhere. While he was grateful to his parents and loved them beyond belief for their constant efforts, he never truly learned to control himself until they had passed away.

Dealing with the grief of their deaths caused him immeasurable pain, accompanying by a deluge of emotions that he had been ill-prepared for. As he took time to grieve, he reined in his emotions, refining them to only be displayed in his mind and not on the outside. Adapting to his own grief aided him in controlling himself and as he slowly left the house more often and became reacclimated to society, no one remembered the freakishness of childhood. Bilbo worked hard to present himself as a respectable gentle hobbit, and preferred to keep it that way (Thank you very much Gandalf). 

As he went about his evening, preparing supper whilst putting all of his energy into not thinking about the earlier incident involving the wizard, Bilbo felt somewhat at ease once again. Everything had gone normally besides the morning and he was now in the mood to enjoy a nice, peaceful supper before a wonderful bath and a long night of uninterrupted sleep. He felt silly to have been so nervous before. Clearly, Gandalf had been pulling at straws earlier, in his attempt to have Bilbo join in an adventure. Ha! Bilbo, of all people. Yes, it was an obvious mistake. Bilbo had put his past behind him and was not about the reopen it just for some wondering wizard who happened to produce excellent fireworks. 

Bilbo sat down to eat his fish, napkin in his shirt front, and suddenly paused. Not that he was obsessing, but what was it the wizard had said earlier? Something about ‘informing the others?’ Well, nevermind. As Bilbo had confirmed earlier, it was all in the past and the past was now behind him. He squeezed a bit of lemon juice on his meal and prepared to eat.

_Ring, ring, ring._

Oh, bother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, so this is my first fanfiction posted so far. Hoping it's a good start lol!


	2. Meet the Family

Bilbo stood hesitantly, quite unsure of who could be at the door at such an hour. Setting down his silverware, Bilbo walked to the door with a nervous bounce in his step. His fingers tapped against his thigh impatiently and he briefly considered glancing out the side window to see who was there. He quickly tossed that idea out of his head, as it was likely too dark outside to see much, as well as the act being considered improper. Hobbits are welcoming creatures and being caught spying on visitors would send the wrong message indeed. Well, excluding that earlier incident. He tried not to think about the wizard. 

Oh, he dearly hoped that this knocking was not connected to the wizard. Although, with the way his day was going, he would not doubt it. And given that this person had shown up uninvited… 

No, no. He would not stand here and speculate, his (uninvited) guest had already been made to wait at the door for much too long a time. Bilbo reached with a false air of confidence to the door handle, convincing himself that, clearly, it must be Mr. Gamgee or another hobbit coming over for a late night chat. That was it - he must have invited someone over for supper and forgotten. Silly him!

He sung the door open wide and nearly toppled over in shock. It was - it was a dwarf? Bilbo had never seen one before with his own eyes but standing before him was clearly no hobbit from around these parts. The creature was built stocky, broad shoulders covered in a thick, heavy fur and feet covered in large boots. No hobbit would ever wear such a hideous creation on their feet! And the creature could not be any human or elf, he was much too short. 

Despite his similar stature to hobbits, the creature - a dwarf! - easily towered over Bilbo as he turned around, giving a slight bow and introducing himself.

“Dwalin. At your service,” the dwarf spoke. Bilbo gapped at the shaved head covered in tattoos and heavily bearded face. No hobbit he had seen ever sported that much facial hair. 

While Bilbo did feel quite astounded and fearful, he couldn’t help but admire the dwarf. He had never before seen such a creature and had always had the desire to meet one. He cherished early childhood memories, running in the woods in search of Elves and Dwarves alike. That was before he became a recluse of course. 

Bilbo vaguely noticed himself gawking awkwardly and suddenly realized he was being quite rude. Why - his robe was not even done up! He was slightly mortified, although the feeling was still overcome with curiosity and fear. 

He quickly tied up his robe, pushing the breathe out of his lungs with a last tug on the strap around his waist, before introducing himself, “Bilbo Baggins, at yours… Do we know each other?” 

The dwarf stepped over the doorstep into Bilbo’s home - how rude! - and replied curtly, “No.”

As Dwalin made to step around Bilbo, he paused. Bilbo stood shock still and gazed up at the dwarf. His mouth was agape in a confusion but he found himself unable to pull it together. The dwarf looked back at him, head tilting slightly. Dwalin’s breath began to quicken and his eyes were unfocused, unlike their sharpness a few seconds before.

Oh no, oh no! Stop it, Bilbo! He told himself, harshly. He realized what had begun too late and quickly stumbled away. He forced himself to rein in his confusion and oscillating emotions as much as possible and the Dwarf slowly came back to himself. Dwalin shook his head slowly and blinked his eyes. He frowned slightly at Bilbo and then seemed to dismiss him in favor of glancing around Bilbo’s hobbit hole.  
“Which way, laddie? Is it down here?” 

Bilbo felt there must be something he was missing, and it wasn’t just whatever ‘it’ the dwarf was referring to. There was some bigger picture that had gone over his head and at this point he was too far behind to do anything but hold on for the ride. 

“I-i-is what down where?” he asked, desperately.

“Supper. He said there’d be food. And lots of it.”

Bilbo certainly had a bad feeling about this. There was nothing to be done know, so Bilbo continued to act the welcoming hobbit that he was and offered the dwarf what had been intended as Bilbo’s own supper. Despite owning up to the appetite of a hobbit, he wasn’t feeling just as hungry as normal. Rather he was more alarmed and anxiously awaiting the result of this dwarf’s impromptu visit. 

Bilbo showed his guest, Dwalin, to his meal and sat quietly in the background, keeping an eye of the dwarf, while fingering the bread in his pocket. After all, it seemed as though the dwarf could surely eat him out of house and home and Bilbo would need to keep some for himself!

Of course, the most inopportune event happened next. Bilbo got up from his chair and finally worked up his courage to ask Dwalin about his visit. Not that he was being rude, but he certainly felt entitled to some answers. He began to question the dwarf’s presence, explaining his surprise at receiving the company when -

_Ring, ring, ring._

Again! Well, who could it be now? Bilbo had never received more than one unplanned visitor at a time, especially at this unreasonable hour! 

“That’ll be the door,” spoke Dwalin, quite unnecessarily. He did remind Bilbo to be on good behavior. He would not be known as an uninviting host, no matter the circumstances. 

Bilbo left Dwalin sitting at the dining table uneasily. He hurriedly walked to the door and forced himself to put aside his hesitation. Opening the door once more, he found himself face to face with yet another dwarf! Why, the world had gone mad! 

“Balin, at your service,” spoke the new dwarf. He seemed very much more friendly than the other dwarf, although Bilbo himself had never interacted with the beings before. Balin held himself with an open air and sported a genuine looking smile aimed at Bilbo. With his head of white hair, accompanied by a long white beard and shorter stature than that of Bilbo, he felt much more comforting than Dwalin. Still, Bilbo now had two dwarves in his home. He found himself shocked and simultaneously calmed at the indication that there seemed to be a pattern, albeit not one that he would enjoy. 

“Good evening,” Bilbo finally greeted the second dwarf. 

“Yes, yes it is. Though I think it might rain later. Am I late?” Balin inquired. Yes, Bilbo decided. There was a pattern here and he would not like it one bit. 

“Late for what?”

“Oh! Ha ha! Evening, brother,” Balin exclaimed, upon spotting Dwalin. Bilbo found it not a surprise whatsoever that they were related. The names had clued him in and to be very honest, the entire situation he found himself in could not get any more strange. Perhaps he was dreaming?

As the brother got themselves reacquainted, Bilbo once again gathered up his confidence to confront the brothers. This time he found it a bit easier, as he was no longer just confounded but more appalled at the lack of prior notice and invasion of his home. Of course, he would keep his conversation as kind as possible, for he was a respectable hobbit.

“Excuse me, sorry. Don’t mean to interrupt. The thing is, I’m not entirely sure you’re in the right house. It’s not that I don’t like visitors. I like visitors as much as the next hobbit. But I do like to know them before they come visiting! The thing is- the thing is, I don’t know either of you in the slightest. I don’t mean to be blunt, but I had to speak my mind. I’m sorry.” 

Bilbo stood straighter after delivering his short speech, certain that they would understand the miscommunication and surely leave him in peace. He stared at them expectantly and was honestly very shocked Balin’s ‘acceptance of his apology’ and consequent dismissal. Had they not heard a word he said? Unbelievable!

_Ring, ring, ring._

Of course there were more. Bilbo walked to his door for the third time in under half an hour and prepared for more of the strange dwarves that would unquestionably appear on his doorstep. He swung open the door once more and - no, not two!

They were multiplying! The situation was certainly going bad fast and Bilbo felt things begin to slip out of hands fasted than he could control. He struggled to keep his composure and focus on the situation at hand. 

“Fili-”

“And Kili-”

“At your service!” the young dwarves spoke in unison. 

“You must be Mister Boggins!” spoke one of the dwarves - Kili? Well Bilbo didn’t intend to find out.

“Nope! You can’t come in, you’ve come to the wrong house,” Bilbo attempted to shut the door in their faces. He was inwardly mortified at his own action, but found no other options available! There were already far too many dwarves invading his home as it was.

“What? Has it been cancelled?”

“No one told us!”

If Bilbo weren’t so frazzled at the moment, and facing such strange circumstances, he would definitely find their behavior endearing. As it was, he could help but melt a bit at the faces of the similar looking dwarves, so curious and full of life. He could feel their childish joy and enthusiasm bubbling at the surface. It was refreshing to be around the auras of individuals so full of life for a change, yet Bilbo knew he had to pull back or risk raising questions. He hardly knew these dwarves after all. 

“No, nothing’s been cancelled!” Bilbo exclaimed in exasperation. Apparently, the dwarves found this an invitation to come inside. Despite their joy and innocence that endeared Bilbo, he was quite appalled at their behavior and lack of manners! Strutting in like they owned the place, tossing him their weapons, wiping their shoes on his mother’s glory box - how dare they! 

And once again, Bilbo felt the rush of emotions from the dwarves, their amusement and sly, mischievous delight. He almost felt as if he knew these dwarves, as if they were his own friends already. In instances like these, he found himself almost thankful for his curse (“it’s a gift, darling Bilbo,” his mother’s voice spoke in his head), yet he remembered the consequences and knew to not get too comfortable in his abilities. He had to trust his own intellect - trusting his instincts would only mark him a freak. 

As the two new dwarves - Fili and Kili - marched away to meet their comrades, Bilbo followed them in disbelief. There was talk of moving his tables and furniture around and he became enraged at their conversing as if he wasn’t present. Suddenly, he froze upon one word.

“Everyone! How many more are there?” he asked in astonishment. 

He did not receive a verbal reply, yet following ringing at the door was answer enough. 

“Oh no. No, there’s nobody home! Go away and bother somebody else! There’s far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. If this is some plothead’s idea of a joke, I can only say - it is very poor taste.” 

With that said, Bilbo yanked the door open for what he sincerely hoped was the last time, only for a mountain of dwarves to tumble onto his floor. The mumbling and grumbling of tangled up dwarves with stocky bodies, heavy coats, and an excess of facial hair could only be greeted by Bilbo in resigned shock. His fears of the dwarves multiplying seemed to now be well founded. He gazed upward in bewilderment at a familiar and unwelcome face. 

“Gandalf,” Bilbo sighed. 

~~

Bilbo tugged on his trousers in haste, startling as he heard the clatter from outside his door. Every second he spent without supervising those adult children was adding to the risk of his house being completely wrecked, but he just had to take a moment to pull himself together, lest he let his emotions get the better of him. He took a few deep breaths, attempting to block out the noise from the outside. It was only a bunch of dwarves and a meddlesome wizard. He could handle that, easily. Bilbo was a respectable gentlehobbit, who would not tolerate this type of rude, uncaring behavior in his household, from uninvited guests nonetheless. 

Briskly tugging on the first clean shirt in his drawer, Bilbo began to button up the white garment from the bottom, slowing his fingers to resemble some type of control and taking measured breaths in counts of ten. 

Upon the sound of more merry laughter and deep grumbling, Bilbo found he could wait no longer and quickly exited his bedroom, being sure to shut the door in hopes it would stay unviolated. He was immediately surrounded by a bustle of activity. Dwarves of all sizes shuffled past, carrying all types of food items that Bilbo recognized from his carefully stocked pantry. And there went Bilbo’s hard-earned calm. 

In the middle of the hustle and bustle of his hobbit hole, Bilbo struggled to finish buttoning his shirt, most definitely missing some buttons and mismatching them, and thought it prudent to tuck the ends into his trousers as well. In an afterthought, Bilbo pulled up his suspenders onto his shoulders and was confounded upon being stopped by a rather frightening dwarf.

The dwarf spoke clearly to Bilbo, yet not in any tongue he could recognize, and proceeded to walk away. Turning around, Bilbo nearly collided with another dwarf, with a slightly less scary image. This dwarf commented on the other’s condition,

“He’s got… an injury.”

Oh, really. Well that was quite helpful - as if he didn’t have eyes capable of spotting the ax in the others head!

Bilbo was really becoming utterly irritated with these dwarves - invading his privacy and then going ahead to act as if he was the strange one! Well he had quite enough of their behavior. 

“Put that back. Put those back,” Bilbo demanded of the dwarves carrying off his food into the unknown. No response. Well then!. Very rude, indeed. 

“Excuse me, a tad excessive isn’t it? Have you got a cheese knife?”

“Cheese knife? He eats it by the block.”

By the block! Oh, dear. Bilbo fingered his suspenders nervously, feeling altogether out of control in his very own household. 

“Excuse me… not for sitting on. Put it back, please. Put it back!”

“Not a coaster!”

“Put that map down, thank you very much.”

At least Gandalf seemed to be unconcerned, enjoying a comically small sized glass of red wine from a domestic looking dwarf. Bilbo paced back and forth, over and over, in ineffectual attempts to get answers and at the very least, teach these dwarves some manners. Tossing food back and forth, stepping on the table - its as if they were raised in a barn. 

Bilbo was losing steam in his mad struggle, yet still gathered up the energy to lecture one of the dwarves with the funny-looking hat on the nature of a croquet dollie. Of course, he had to go and make a joke of it. 

“Bother and confusticate these dwarves!” he exclaimed to himself, feeling a strong headache gathering behind his temples. 

“My dear Bilbo, what on Earth is the matter?” Gandalf asked in passing. As if he didn’t know! Hobbits were respectable, genuine creatures who enjoy peace and comfort. These dwarves were providing Bilbo the very opposite and he would like them to leave his house immediately! He told Gandalf as much, explaining the state they had left his carpets and pantry in with gusto. Overall, he felt validated in his anger.

“I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!” Bilbo breathed harshly through his nose, turning to face Gandalf once again. Unlike before, Gandalf now carried a concerned expression. So now he understood Bilbo’s stance on the matter? 

“Bilbo, you must calm yourself,” he spoke.

Oh, really! Bilbo had to calm himself? Oh, no. He was the one whose spaced was being violated and prized possessions being through around like children’s toys! How could Gandalf even suggest he be calm?

Pacing back and forth, Bilbo risked a glance at Gandalf’s face. His eyes were shut tightly and his fists clenched. The mighty wizard seemed to curl in on himself and suddenly he approached Bilbo rapidly. He gripped Bilbo by the shoulders and kneeled down.

“Listen to me, child! I understand. Your confusion and your fear. They are rational and quite justified. But you must control yourself,” Gandalf spoke. 

Oh. That was what he meant.

“I can feel it, Bilbo, your anger. I know you can take control of it. You are a rational being - intelligent and cunning. You were chosen for this quest for a purpose, Bilbo.” 

Bilbo remained tense for a few short moment, and then felt himself sag in Gandalf’s hands. The wizard retreated slowly. Gandalf gazed at him, eyes twinkling knowingly. Bilbo returned the stare with a slight nod and turned away. He had lost control. He now realized - Gandalf had known all along. Whether his mother had revealed Bilbo’s abilities or otherwise no longer mattered. Gandalf suspected and Bilbo confirmed his suspicions. How could he have let his emotions get the better of him? He had thought he was in such good control.  
He was suddenly interrupted from his musings by a short, lean dwarf with a dirty plate. An impressive song and dance quickly followed as the dwarves tossed about Bilbo’s antique china and he was distracted once again. He at first tried to scold them once again, yet became the blunt of their song piece - “that’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!” Quite catchy, he had to admit. Well, the dwarves weren’t all bad he supposed. 

_Knock, knock, knock._

That was new. Bilbo found himself deafened by the unexpected quiet surrounding him as the dwarves all became serious, no longer resembling the fun loving beings they seemed to be only seconds before. As one, the dwarves stood, following Gandalf to the door. Bilbo scrambled behind them, wondering what could possibly be behind that door to cause this boisterous group of dwarves to become so silent.

As they approached the door, Bilbo nearly stumbled, being overcome by a rush of grief. His fingers trembled minutely against his thighs and he clenched his fists to keep them hidden. He wrapped his arms around himself, paranoia taking control of his actions and making him glance around himself, backing into the wall behind him. And he was… angry? But not the anger he had projected to Gandalf from before. This was a deeper, darker anger, burning hot in his chest. 

Bilbo jerked his head up at the sound of the door being flung open, not having realized he had looked down at all. 

His breath sped up in tandem with his racing heartbeat and Bilbo was quite suddenly immobilized in his small corner. There was a fire in his veins and he could no longer remember the thought of joy or rightness in the world. He wanted revenge - no, he needed revenge. He had never known such an overwhelming flood of negative sensations at once. In all his time suffering through the joys and downfalls of other beings, he felt wholly unprepared for this moment. He was drowning, under an avalanche, choking on toxic air and unable to get a leg up. He couldn’t break out from underneath the barrage, despite diligent efforts. When would it end? When --

“So, this is the hobbit.”

Bilbo startled and found himself standing face-to-face with yet another dwarf. That volley of emotions had been near enough to force Bilbo into his own memories, yet he was just scarcely pulled back from the edge. He had rarely felt such a mountain of emotions from another being so strong as to push back his defenses. It had been as if Bilbo was one with this dwarf, as if he were the one experiencing these overwhelming feelings.

Traces of fear and anger lingered, yet Bilbo regained himself in quickly enough to judge that this dwarf was addressing him. He vaguely recalled a name - Thorin Oakenshield. Thorin was different than the others - stronger and less obnoxious. He glared at Bilbo with an expectant expression and Bilbo, himself, could not do much more than return the stare with bewilderment. This dwarf was clearly a battle-hardened warrior, the leader of the group. He commanded respect, with an air of dignity and confidence. And Bilbo, upon analyzing the outside looks of the dwarf, was at odds with himself. Anyone observing the looks of Thorin would find him unlikely to be resonating such emotion, from such a strong character. Of course he held felt rage, but it was equally met with fear and trauma. While most beings truly could be read from their appearance, there was more to Thorin than he let on, and Bilbo intended to find out what. 

“Tell me Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting? Ax or sword, what is your weapon of choice?” Thorin began to circle Bilbo in an aggressive posturing technique and Bilbo replied immediately. 

“Well, I do have some skill in conkers, if you must know. But I fail to see why that is relevant.” Conker! What an idiot he was. 

“I thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

As the group of dwarves laughed at Bilbo and Thorin walked away with them, Bilbo felt himself growing less enthused about his self-proposed task to explore Thorin’s character, but reassured himself that he had felt Thorin’s emotions and knew better than anyone the pain he was suffering. Bilbo would not give up and leave the dwarf to suffer on him own. 

Bilbo briefly considered letting down his walls and exploring Thorin’s emotions in more depth, yet he knew that now was the wrong time, not to mention that he had locked away that part of himself for valid reason. He would help Thorin find himself again, and use a minimum of his abilities to do so.

What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any mistakes, plz let me know and thanks for reading! i will try to be consistent updating as much as possible.


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